


Mad World

by ferowyn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Angst, Crossover, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 13:11:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferowyn/pseuds/ferowyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having lost everything and everyone in his fight against Voldemort, Harry really wishes he could die. Or at least sleep. However, there is nothing he can do but wait - until the planet dies and takes his immortal body along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Worn Out Places

## Mad World

### Worn Out Places

You are falling.

Once you used to love the sensation of being weightless, of playing with air and gravity and your _life_ the way others play with a deck of cards or toy cars. You used to feel free only when you left the ground far behind and were playing tag with wisps of clouds and fleeting dreams.

Now the clouds are thunderheads that would once have killed you with one discharge, and your dreams, which came so close, became so accessible, are broken; buried beneath a bloodied battlefield.

You wish you were buried there, too, another lost soul instead of an unlucky survivor. You also wish the thunderheads could still kill you. It would make everything so much easier, so much less painful. Because how are you supposed to live, like this, with a giant hole in your chest and your heart not even beating any longer?

You have considered doing it yourself, of course, if the lightening would not have been strong enough. _Fire_ , you know, Fire is the end now. Or it would have been, had your magic not boiled over and kept the flames at bay, making sure your cold body would not meet any kind of harm.

You expected having lost it - your magic – and you were even been glad about it, in a way... and then you felt it:

A sheer endless amount of energy buzzing beneath your skin, tingling in the tips of your fingers, flowing through your veins.

Ready to do your bidding within the blink of an eye.

Well.

It seems that an end of this agony has receded into the distance, for you do not doubt that your magic will protect you against anything and anyone set out to kill you, including yourself.

Were you not so laden with pain that there is no place for any other sensation you might have felt annoyed. You are different, once again. And here you thought that you could not hate your life even more. Duh. We all make mistakes.

Tiredly – oh, you wish you could sleep! – you reach for the splinters of holly you have wrapped in a piece of cloth and place them on the flat palm of your right hand. In a short and rare moment of humour you take a deep breath (which is, of course, completely unnecessary) and softly release the air again, blowing it towards the splinters you have picked up piece by piece which took hours despite your superhuman speed and sight. The energy swirling through your body is _begging_ to be used and you easily let it flow into the stream of air hitting the wooden pieces mixed with shreds of what once was a beautiful gold, red and orange feather. The broken wand knits itself back together before your very eyes when your magic tells it to, and you are not even surprised.

It should be impossible – repairing a broken wand with magic.

But, well, you have always been one to cross all borders, whether you wanted to or not.

When your loyal wand is whole again, vibrating and ready to be used, you just stare at it. It is still laying on your flat palm and you feel your fingers itching to close themselves around it out of habit, your arms twitching with the urge to flourish it and change the world, like you did so often. Yet your body stays still as a statue.

You are afraid – afraid of destroying that last token in one tiny moment of carelessness.

Also, you do not need it any longer, as the energy flowing through your body reminds you. It is singing with the voice of a siren, so very alluring and so much stronger than ever. It is reacting to your every thought before you have even thought it, eager to fulfil any wish you might have, and it takes all your concentration to keep it in check.

It reminds you of what you were told of Alice, hyperactive and always wanting to help, almost foreseeing whatev-

You quickly suppress that thought, push it to the back of your overactive mind. There is no need to add even more pain to the agony you are already feeling.

You keep your eyes fixed on the wand; keep them from wandering, despite the fact that they want to dart around at every tiny glimpse of any kind of movement. Your instincts are running high, battling your magic for your attention; the two stirring each other up and making it harder and harder to keep them under control. You could probably use the excessive energy to forcefully stifle your heightened senses and the burning _thirst_ that seems to be getting worse with every passing second, you could follow your instincts to push back the magic; however, you let both of them blaze and fan instead of using one to depress the other.

If you have to pour all concentration into keeping control you cannot think about anything else.

It gets harder and harder to keep this up, standing unmoving and just staring at your wand without breathing or blinking, and you have no idea how much time has passed since you have come here, fleeing the battlefield and its nightmares; but you are prepared to stay unmoving for years and years and years until the world comes undone and you may find peace.

Suddenly you feel a hand coming to lie on your arm.

It is a soft hand, smooth and warm and run through with blood. You can hear it rushing through tender veins, driven by a fragile heart which’s beat is like music in your ears. A very enticing song, competing with the siren’s voice of your magic, and you feel the need to breathe, to take in the sweet scent that will surely accompany the exquisite music. Still, with everything you have, you force your marble lungs to keep from moving and your eyes to stay fixed on the beautiful wand on your palm.

“Harry,” a soft voice says and your eyes dart into the direction where _she_ is standing before you clamp them shut, every fibre of your hard, cold, perfect body suddenly tense. How did she sneak up on you?

“Go,” you whisper, harshly, with what air you have left. You are delighted to see her alive, for a split second, but it is too dangerous for her to be here.

“No,” she murmurs and her voice is warm, like her body, so very different from yours’. You feel her move beside you and then sense the rising magic in the air, hear the quietly muttered words of a spell so clearly as if she has screamed them at you. Within a split second your mind has found the cross-reference in your memory and assigned the words an effect even before it takes place. And really, only moments later what feels like a heavy blanket separates you from the warmth and the blood and the heartbeat.

You feel yourself relax a tiny little bit when the temptation plummets to a bearable level.

“Harry,” she says again. “Harry. Look at me.”

You stand still, like a statue, you do not want to, but there is nothing else that can be done, now is there? She will wait until you do, and you would not want her to suffer, to freeze and starve, because of you. So many have suffered because of you already, and you will not have her be one of them. Thus you slowly turn your head and aim your unblinking gaze at her, honestly expecting her to flinch or back away, or anything.

And still you are not really surprised when she just smiles at you, her beautiful features full of trust and sadness.

“Harry,” she repeats. “Breathe.”

There is no other option but to comply. You wish to stay here, completely turn into the cold stone your body is made of and wait for the end; for the pain to be buried beneath the thirst and the impatience of your magic, so that you never have to think of it again. So that it never again rips your unmoving heart into pieces. Her arrival, however, has crushed this wish. One more dream turned to dust… it is not like you are not used to it. And you know, for her you will endure the pain; to make her happy you will do almost anything. Thus, you finally draw in a tiny bit of air, slowly and carefully, until you have made sure that her sweet scent is suppressed as well, just like her warmth and heartbeat. When your throat screams but none of your marble muscles even twitch you breathe properly, letting the fresh air graze your sensory cells and provide your brain with the smell of the Forbidden Forest on a clear winter morning, fresh and cold and peaceful.

“Luna,” you finally say, quietly, and her smile widens.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she explains. “After all…” She does not continue, then, but her face falls and the wide blue eyes tear up, and you know what she means.

“Shh.”

With a movement too fast for human eyes you push your wand into the damaged holster that is still attached to your thigh and move to hold her, careful not to crush her fragile body.

“Oh Harry!” she sobs and buries her face in your torn, bloodied shirt the moment your cold arms wrap around her slim shoulders, tiny fingers clinging to what is left of your school uniform. You hold her a little closer, one of your hands moving to cautiously caress her head. The blond locks are dirty and crusted with dried blood, even scorched in some places, but have not lost any of their beauty. She is still wearing her uniform as well, wand in a holster at her forearm.

“I thought…” she gasps for air “I thought I lost you too!” She raises her head then and stares at you, beautiful blue eyes rimmed red and swimming with desperate tears. “I was afraid you had… you would… oh Harry, _please_ , I’ve got no one left but you. Please, don’t leave me as well!"

You force a smile.

“I tried to,” you admit, understanding very well what she is talking about. She knows you like one would know a brother or sister, just like Ron and Hermione and Neville and Ginny used to know you. “I’m sorry,” you immediately say. “I… it did’nt work.” You take a deep breath, making a decision as hard as any you have made in your life that has been far from easy. “You won’t lose me,” you then swear.

Because what else could you do?

Even if it means that you will have to live with the pain and the loss from day to day instead of turning into stone, or looking for a way to suppress your magic. It will be excruciating, but for her you will do it.

She is the last person you have left.

“I thought you were dead, too,” you explain. “I didn’t find your body when I looked, I found all the others’, but not yours… However, there were piles of ashes and shreds of people who’d been blasted. I couldn’t identify those and I thought you were one of them…”

She is still clinging to you. “I ran,” she whispers. “I found you with a vampire of Voldemort’s forces attached to your neck and I killed him, because I couldn’t lose you as well. He didn’t get to drain you completely, and soon you were turning and I knew I couldn’t be anywhere near when you woke up. So I left and came back to look for you after a month.”

“A month,” you whisper, glancing around. The branches of the trees are heavy with snow, and when you turn your head you realize that the white crystals are lying on your arms and shoulders as well, not melting due to your low body temperature. For a second you manage to muster fascination for the beautiful flakes, however, it soon fades; buried by the agony. “How long… when…”

“A little more than three months,” Luna answers, slowly composing herself. “The battle was at the end of October. It’s mid-February now.”

You just stare at her.

You have been standing here, unmoving, for more than three months. (It would work, your perfect brain immediately realizes. It felt like much less time. You could easily wait for the end of the world… when she is gone.)

Her smile is sad. “You need to feed,” she says. “Your eyes are pitch-black. I… there’s a muggle prison nearby. If we leave the grounds I can get you a felon, and smuggle the corpse back in afterwards. I’m afraid I won’t be able to get hold of any blood-substitute at the moment, England is still a mess.”

Your eyes widen. “That… you would do that…”

“Of course.” Her voice is firm, as if it is that easy, and you realize that it _is_ as easy as that. And you could have known, really, for this is Luna you are dealing with. If anyone could accept a newborn vampire into their family without hesitating or making sure that they could control themselves, if anyone would offer to organize them a human to drain, it would definitely be Luna Lovegood.

You smile honestly then, for the first time since the battle – and your smiles were already rare before then.

“Do you have everything you need?” you ask and she nods.

“There’s nothing left for me here,” she says and you understand that she is talking about her belongings as much as Hogwarts and Britain. Cocking your head you look at her, questioning, and when she realizes what you are asking for she squeals in delight.

"I’ve wanted to since I was a kid!” she exclaims and – carefully – you pick her up bridal style.

“You will have to tell me where to go,” you warn her.

“North,” she immediately replies, winding her arms around your ice-cold neck. “Until we’ve left the grounds. I’ll get you your meal then, and we can make further plans once you’ve fed.”

Nodding you tighten your grip around her just a little and then take off

It is only the second time you are using the speed that your new vampire nature has gifted you with, and race northwards. Easily you elude trees and rocks, jump across rivers. Luna is cheering in your arms and you think that _before_ you would have enjoyed this as well. This is _after_ , though, and while the pain is no longer holding you in a stony grip it still is everything you manage to feel.

It does not take you long to get off Hogwarts’ grounds, however extensive they may be; without encountering any of the forests’ dangerous inhabitants. They sense that you are higher threat to them than they could ever be to you and flee, just like they did in those three months you spent unmoving.

You do not know whether to be relieved or disappointed. You always loved animals, and that they fear you now does not make being an immortal any easier.

Finally you come shooting out of the forest and into an open field, feeling the foreign magic as you pass through the school’s shields.

You put Luna to the floor as soon as you have stopped and she gives you a wide and very honest smile, taking a deep breath before she closes her eyes and turns on the spot, apparating away. What used to be a faint _crack_ now is like thunder to your ears and you flinch. You then settle to stare at the place she has just left, the energy in your veins flowing out before you can stop it, eagerly examining what traces of magic the apparation has left. It is almost interesting, the way you can feel what kind of magic she has worked, along with her signature which you easily recognize. You think about how excited Hermione would have been about this-

And your world comes crumbling down once more.

Hermione.

Before you get the chance to sink into depression, however, you catch the momentary condensation of magical energy in a spot a few feet away from you before Luna is torn from the crack in the structure, her fragile fingers around the muscular upper arm of-

The scent hits you, then, and everything else is forgotten.

Not even the loud _crack_ when she disapparates again manages to distract you, for you smell the sweetest scent you ever have smelled, you hear the beautiful, frantic beating of a human heart, you take in your _prey_. Panicked blue eyes are wide open; the tattooed giant of a man gasping for air and bobbing up, trying to run.

You let him, for a few seconds, before you take off, landing in front of him. He screams when you do, calls for help in this godforsaken plain, and you give him a cruel grin. “Run,” you purr and your voice drops from your lips like honey. “Run for your life.” He does like you told him and again you jump, barring his way. He freezes for a moment and then changes direction and you give him a little lead this time, before cutting him off again – and again and again and again.

When he has finally stumbled and fallen to the floor, reduced to a panicked, whimpering mess, you slowly approach him. Your movements are those of a predator, and you bare your teeth, deeply inhaling his scent. Easily your sharp eyes find the long cut on his palm, the one he already stumbled into your territory with.

“Mine,” you purr when you finally reach him and put your pale fingers under his chin, raise his head.

His cheeks are tear-streaked and his beard looks dreadful. His panicked eyes, however, are lovely.

“Such beautiful eyes,” you purr, slightly scratching the skin of his cheek – not enough to draw blood, but almost. “A shame, really.” For a moment you want to know _what_ you are hunting, who he is, what you will be destroying – and instantly your magic complies, forcing him to open his mind to your legilimency like a door to his memories. You brush through them carelessly, not that interested, until you find those including rape and murder and the trials. Roaring you tear your mind out of his and do not hesitate to bury your teeth in his neck, your hands snapping the bones in his arms and legs as if they were twigs. He screams with agony, but not for long, as you are draining him with your body and magic, ridding the world of this monster.

You only become aware of yourself when he is lying in front of you, dead and bloodless.

The burning thirst is sated.

Moments later you feel Luna’s arrival.

“That took impressively long,” she beams at you, as if that were an achievement, and then draws her wand. “Give me a few moments,” she murmurs and then begins to mutter spells in a quick succession.

You feel the magic work, abiding by her spells, and when you understand what she is doing you let your magic join hers, freely flowing to do its work, without the constrictions of a wand.

Within a few seconds the corpse is filled with magically multiplied blood – no vampire would drink that – and the bite mark has made way for the kind of bruises that hanging would leave. The bones in his limbs are healed and Luna gives you a quick smile.

“He must have committed suicide, a shame. Anyway, I’ll be right back,” she murmurs and apparates the corpse away, back to the prison.

You stare at the thin air where she was just moments ago and let your mind wander.

You have just killed.

A rapist and murderer, yes, but a human no less. You have taken a life. Suddenly images come up, memories of vicious green curses shooting from the wand pressed against your thigh, and injuries that take the lives of hundreds of wizards clad in black, faces hidden behind silver masks.

You have killed before.

To save your life, and those of others. It is not any different this time, right? You killed this man so that you would not give in to your instincts and kill Luna.

Trying to distract yourself you realize that you remember everything, and so very clearly – as if it happened after your transformation. For a moment you wonder whether you should be surprised, but then you resign. You have kept your magic, which should be impossible. Why not keep your memories? Also, you have long since stopped being surprised about stuff that is possible for you and no one else. Why change that policy?

Before you manage to contemplate that any further Luna returns, a sweet smile on her lips.

“Harry,” she beams and throws herself at you. “I really liked your green eyes, but red fits you lovely as well!”

For a moment a pale face flashes through your mind; features with no proper nose and fiery red eyes. Voldemort. Your arch enemy, whom you managed to kill a little more than three months ago. You cannot look like him, no way, you would not-

Then you remember your Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons, moving pictures of vampires in your books; and Sanguini at Slughorn’s party. Their eyes had the colour of fresh blood, not of fire. When that realization hits home you feel the tension leave your body and manage to force a smile.

The look in her eyes is understanding and she reaches for your hand. “Really, Harry, I’m impressed,” she murmurs. “You’ve gone for at least three months without blood, and you didn’t attacked me the moment I found you. Also, you obviously took your time with your meal instead of draining him immediately. You must have incredible self-control.”

Your smile is still forced, but it is the best you can do. “My magic,” you answer.

“Ahh.” She nods, not in the least surprised that you kept it. Well. She does know you as well as you know yourself. “So,” she then says, cheerfully, “where are we going?” Staring at you expectantly she sits down on a stone, not caring about the fact that it is covered in snow, soaking her damaged robe and skirt.

“We… going… what?” You are confused. It is a little embarrassing, really, with how fast your mind works, but then – this is Luna. She does not do normal.

“Well, we won’t stay here, will we?”

You look at her and you see in her beautiful blue eyes what she must be seeing in yours: Pain.

No, you will not, you _cannot_ stay here. England holds nothing for you, and neither does the wizarding world. You two are the last survivors of the Order of the Phoenix and you hold no love for the Ministry who kept out of the war cowardly, letting who they were supposed to take care of do their jobs. Maybe you could have stayed had anyone else survived; but with Hermione, the Weasleys, Neville, Remus, Tonks,Teddy, Dumbledore – hell, even Snape – gone you know that you will have to leave.

“And we’ll stay together.”

It is as much a plea as an order, and you can do nothing but nod. After all what she said before is true: Both of you have no one left but each other.

“What about Japan?”


	2. Worn Out Faces

## Mad World

### Worn Out Faces

“Japan?”

She rolls her eyes. “You know, the country next to China-”

You force a chuckle. “I know,” you say. “Just… I don’t think I can make decisions right now. I’ll try to live, for you, but will need your help. Please?”

She gives you a soft smile. “Of course,” she agrees and her voice is heavy with sadness. “Alright. Japan it is then. Well, maybe we should… clean ourselves a little.”

Your magic has understood what she is talking about before even you have and moments later your clothes are repaired and all traces of blood and dirt are gone.

“Also… maybe we should… you know, suppress your senses and instincts? We’ll need to go to Gringotts, and there’ll be lots of people, and you’re still a Newborn. No matter how incredible your self-control is, we don’t have to tempt fate.”

You give her a look, but then close your eyes to concentrate and, without hesitating, your magic complies; eager to fulfil any wish. You feel your olfactory sense diminish until you cannot smell anything; and you manage to tamper your instincts as well. Hopefully sudden movements will not have you jumping without thinking now. Last but not least you force that energy rushing through you to cluster in your throat and you _push_ until there is… nothing. No thirst – and when you gulp you cannot feel anything either. Immediately your body revolts and you almost gag, but you manage to control yourself. It is highly uncomfortable; however, definitely preferable to killing someone because you are not in control of your inner monster.

When you are done you look at Luna, and nod.

She beams and claps her hands. “Perfect. Off we pop, then!” With that she reaches for your arm and you feel the surge of apparation rushing towards you and pulling you away, across the space-time curvature. “It’s alright,” she murmurs in those seconds you are caught in the in-between. “He broke you, and the war crushed the pieces to dust. But that’s okay, I like dust.”

And you actually smile again.

Then you are torn out of the apparation and it is only your vampire reflexes that keep you and her from falling after apparating such a long way. When you have steadied yourself and her as well you force yourself to look around, taking in everything that might pose a danger – the war has left you heavily paranoid – and trying to distract yourself from what she has said.

 _He broke you_.

That he did, you acknowledge, before your brain is flooded with millions of impressions as you take in the well-frequented mall you have landed in. It must be underground, your senses are telling you, although there are magical windows showing the night sky outside.

Witches and wizards are rushing about, from shop to shop, and every few moments the tell-tale _crack_ of an apparation resounds. Also, your eyes immediately find a long line of fireplaces, the flames in which keep blazing up green. The amount of bustling activity is impressive, especially considering what time it must be if you take into account to windows and the maths your brain quickly does.

Luna smiles. “Welcome to Maryoku Basho, the magical centre beneath Tokyo.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You planned this.” An image of an arrogant blonde flashes before your eyes as you release your eyebrow, moments later you see him falling to the floor, his head separated from his body.

“Of course I did. Now come.” With that she pulls you off towards a shopfront made of beautifully carved stone, tearing you from your memories of Draco Malfoy’s death. You cannot decipher the gilded Chiragana above the wide door you are approaching, which Luna realizes immediately. “Gringotts,” she explains and your vampire brain stores the information away, decoding the Japanese characters and saving them for later use. You will definitely need to learn the whole alphabet. And Katakana as well, while you are at it.

Stepping through the doors you feel the magic of a powerful shield wash over your skin; however, before you get the chance to investigate it you are being pulled to the end of a neat queue, your beautiful human companion ignoring the stares she receives for manhandling a vampire. You do not care enough to even think about it. You are broken, like she said, but she will make you live for her sake. You are fine with that, there is no way you are going to let her down, and you could never ever attack or hurt her on purpose. She is perfectly safe, even if she is pushing a Newborn around.

“Luna,” you murmur, “what are we doing here?” You take a step forward with the queue, the Goblin behind the counter apparently highly efficient. Looking around you see all kinds of cultures and origins in the features of the witches and wizards queuing with you. Most are Asian, but you spot dark-skinned faces as well, and some red-haired thatches that are screaming Ireland. Letting your sharp eyes take over and crosslinking with what you learned in Defence Against the Dark Arts classes – since your sense of smell is impaired, as are the natural instincts that come with it, you have no other choice – you see not only the hundreds of Goblins who are in the vicinity, but three more vampires, a werewolf and what has to be a veela. Almost interesting, they do look a lot different through the eyes of other magical creatures.

The queue moves again when Luna murmurs, too quietly to be heart by anyone who does not have improved hearing: “Well, we’re taking care of our finances of course! There are Gringotts stores in almost every country that has an organized magical community, so we won’t need to take our money with us wherever we choose to go. We still have to take care of it, though, and we’ll need some to pay for everything we buy here.”

For a moment you feel dread pooling in your stomach. “Everything we buy here?”

There are only two people left waiting in front of you now.

“We do need clothes! We left everything behind but our wands, so we’ll have to get quite a lot – books for example, we should definitely learn Japanese! Also, how did you think we would get hold of food and blood-substitute without paying for it?” She turns around, looks at you, and her face is unusually serious. “We need to live, Harry, and we have to start somewhere. I like it here, it’s nothing like England, and learning about a culture so different from ours will keep us occupied for some time.”

The queue moves once again and you nod, slowly. “I guess you’re right,” you acknowledge. “Do you… want to buy a house, or something?” Realizing that you have to breathe in order to speak you do so, however uneasy you feel with smelling _nothing_ ; which is why you have been holding your breath as long as possible.

“Well, maybe not a house, but an apartment? In one of the magical districts, where you will not have to hide, we can set up all our protective spells and blood-substitute is easy to access.” You do have a lot of protective spells that will be put onto any place you intend to live in. Things like those – things people learn in war, due to necessity – are things they never forget.

You force a smile. “A good idea,” you admit. “Where can we get one?”

“An apartment? Well, I think I saw what could be an estate agent when we came here-”

The wizard who was standing in front of you gives the goblin behind the counter a nod and moves away, which makes you next.

“Kagi?” the goblin snarls into their direction and Luna quickly gives him a smile.

“English, please,” she softly asks and is rewarded with a prompt “Key?”

She turns towards you and you are confused for a moment before you realize what they are talking about – the long-distance-apparation must have fried your brain – and quickly open the small bag attached to your belt, your nimble fingers easily finding the small golden key and handing it to the accountant without hesitation, just like Luna does next to you.

“Harry Potter,” you murmur and the goblin’s eyebrows shoot towards his hairline, his surprise clearly visible on the usually blank face.

“Welcome to Japan,” is all he says on the matter, though, his English perfect and accent-free, and after a spell of his people has washed over your key and verified its validity he asks: “What do you need?”

“Access to my vault, an access-prohibition for the British store, and 1,000 galleons to be paid cash in Yen. Also, I would like to know whether I own any properties in Asia?” The last two were split-second decisions, plans you have not really made yet but which are beginning to gel, and you know that they will work out well. For the first time you are thankful for your vampire brain.

“The same goes for me, Luna Lovegood,” the petite blonde adds, smiling.

The clerk’s eyebrows are twitching. “You will find deeds of ownership in your vaults…” He snaps his fingers and another goblin who was waiting in a long line comes running. “…where you will be taken in a moment. For the access-prohibition…” he scribbles something onto two pieces of parchment “… please sign here. The pay-out will be ready once you return.” With that he shoves one of the parchments and a quill towards you.

Quickly you skim the few words and then sign the document stating that your vault cannot be accessed from the English store, no matter the circumstances.

Luna follows your example and moments later the two of you are being led towards another stone door behind which wagons are waiting. When you pass through the passage you feel magic wash over you, the kind of which you have never encountered before. You also note that everything feels different as soon as you are on the other side of the door – the air, the temperature, the humidity. Your eyebrows must have been shooting upwards, for the goblin gives you a toothy grin.

“Very few are strong enough to feel that,” he remarks, leading you to a wagon and waiting until you have gotten in before he follows your example and takes the front seat.

“So that is how every store has access to the vaults.”

“Indeed. Hold on tight, now.”

That is the only warning you get before the wagon is propelled forward by a sudden burst of magic and you are shooting downwards. Next to you Luna is cheering loudly, just like she did when you carried her, and you begin to think that this is one of the few rollercoaster experiences vampires can still appreciate. The wagon is actually _that_ fast.

You almost enjoy the ride, and it is over way too soon when you stop in front of the Lovegoods’ vault. Luna does not take long and soon you are moving on until you reach your family vault which also contains your Black inheritage now. Two vaults, that is just too much work and too inconvenient. The goblin even bothers to show you the wooden casket that contains the deeds of ownership and it is your supernatural speed that allows you to go through them within a minute. Holy shit, your parents’ and godfather’s families used to be rich.

You hand the deed you have chosen to Luna, and while she skims the information you quickly pick all books concerning vampires and Japan from the huge, heavy chest that contains what must be libraries worth of old (and partly forbidden) books and tomes. When you return with a dozen shrunken volumes the only friend you have left is already beaming at you, wide blue eyes shining.

“This is perfect!” she exclaims and you give her a tight smile.

“I think it will serve our purposes,” you agree and shove the books into the pocket of your robe – which is still your uniform, you should really do something about that – before stepping towards the goblin. “We are done here,” you announce and your guide nods.

“Follow me,” he snarls and soon you are on your way back towards the passage to Japan.

You would really like to know where exactly you are right now, however, you do know that the goblins would never tell you. Well. Maybe you can find a spell that would serve your purposes and return here… some day…

\---

Japan is great, at least you can appreciate it. The house is a Potter heirloom, a small cottage on Shikoku; in the south of the island where only very few muggles live. It is within the bounders of the purely magical community Mahou, but a little secluded and perfect for you and Luna. You are living on blood-substitute, which is part of every proper apothecary’s standard supplies, and cooking for your human friend. There is not much living with the Dursleys has taught you that has ever proven to be useful – apart from how to live with hunger or how to run and hide maybe – and you used to really hate cooking, but no matter how talented Luna may be with potions – in a kitchen she is a disaster waiting to happen. So, you prepare her meals, and you actually like it.

She got what she wanted, you think. The pain is still there, so much stronger than before your transformation, and you have to bear it every moment; however, you have begun to _live_ again. Dying would still be easier of course, yet – there are a few things you can enjoy, and find comfort in.

Studying is one of them.

You used to absorb everything you could, everything that might help you defeat Voldemort, and doing it again – going through books at a frankly scary speed – calms you, holding some kind of familiarity you have found only in your human companion since you have become a vampire. By now you speak two dozen languages, have wrapped your head around Arithmancy problems that would have made Hermione cry, and have accomplished doctor’s degrees in maths and chemistry. Distance learning was a nice invention, you have to admit that.

It has been ten years since the battle on the grounds of Hogwarts, and when you think about standing in the Forbidden Forest, unmoving, waiting for the world to end, you think that this was the better choice. (You will have more than enough time for turning into stone once Luna has passed away anyway.)

You even manage to give your friend real and honest smiles, sometimes, and she cherishes every single one of them. At the same time she lets you be dark and brooding and in pain in a way Ron and Hermione would never have – thinking about them still hurts, the memory of them and their deaths forever preserved in your perfect brain – and you see how she is doing everything just for you the same way you are doing everything just for her. She seems to be genuinely happy, though, in your self-chosen seclusion. Interacting almost never with the other residents of Mahou apart from what little is necessary means that you are always alone. However, it also means that you are safe from the attention, and the paparazzi, and the British Ministry of Magic – which has tried to access your Gringotts vaults on more than one occasion already. Also, your neighbours are safe from your thirst.

This way it is just the two of you, and your books, computers and potions labs. Which is more than fine, really. It is as close to perfect as you can manage in the state you are in.

Time seems to be racing and dragging on at the same time.

For an immortal a day, a month, a year – it means nothing.

However, every second you spend without _him_ is one second too much, and every single one of them is burned into your impeccable brain, never to be forgotten. No matter how hard you concentrate on something, how many parallel chess games you are playing, never do you manage to forget the agony, and the hole where your heart is supposed to be.

You have even tried to delete the memories, to dampen the pain, but your magic is working against you in this.

There is no way to ease the ache, you will have to live with it.

Forever.

Well, at least you have got Luna – your sweet, beautiful, fragile friend who is ever so attentive and lovely.

You suspect that something is going on the minute Luna pulls you into the small comfortable (and vampire safe) living room, pushing you to sit on the floor. The cup that is then shoved into your hands tells you everything you need to know. Cocoa, with blood-substitute. (You still have no idea how you can even think about drinking it, but you still like it. Kind of.) She had to go through great trouble for making it – heating milk and stirring the powders in _is_ great trouble for Luna – which clearly means that she really wants to comfort you, and that she is about to say something you most certainly will not like to hear.

“Harry,” she murmurs, warmly. “We need to talk.”

“Just as I feared,” you answer, as dryly as you manage to, and she snickers softly.

Then she suddenly straightens herself, and attempts to stare you down. “You are not going to like it,” she says, her voice uncharacteristically serious. “But I want you to change me.”

For a few moments you just sit, in stunned silence. Then- “ _What??_ Why in Merlin’s name would you-”

“Because I want to, Harry,” she interrupts you, her small warm hand finding your clenched one – the other runs the risk of crushing the cup. “You really need someone to look after you, and I am certainly not going to let you suffer alone forever.”

“I will not change you because of me!”

“Of course not,” she states simply. “But you _will_ change me because of _me_.”

You curse silently (in Vietnamese, not wanting her to understand) because you know that she is right. You would do almost anything for her – she who is your sister in everything but blood. Again you sit in silence. “Why?” you finally ask her, not even bothered by how desperate you sound.

She gives you a reassuring and convinced smile. “Because neither of us could stand losing the other,” she says; and you have to admit that she is right yet again. “And because I will gladly spend forever with just you and no one else.”

“But… what if you find your mate?” you protest.

“I will not.” She sounds disturbingly confident.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you will make sure of it.”

“… what?”

She rolls her eyes and squeezes my fingers. “Think about it, Harry. What will happen if I find my mate? I will be off and away with them, and you will be alone again. No, I could never do that to you.”

Your eyes widen when you realize what this means. “So this is why you rejected all those wizards, and the three witches, and Merlin, even the Veela, when they asked you out? So that you would not fall in love with them and leave me behind?”

“Well, naturally! Why else would I have done it? The Veela was really lovely, you know, and I think she was serious about wanting to date.”

“But… you cannot give yourself up like that, for me!”

“Of course I can!” Again she rolls her beautiful wide eyes. “Harry,” she murmurs, softly, and you can see that she would rather not talk about this. “Your mate left you. For a vampire that means endless pain and agony and self-doubts. You will never be able to forget about him, and if I let you… you will give yourself up and suffer in silence. Also, if I found a partner – do you not think you would hurt even more, seeing me have what you crave so much? No, I could never do that to you.”

You gulp heavily.

“How… Why… How do you know that he was my mate?” you finally whisper, hoarsely. “I met him before my transformation.”

She gives you a sad smile. “Because your magic already chose him for yourself before you were changed. You are one powerful wizard, Harry, and you know – those who have more power than they can possibly spend usually have those little quirks. It was the same with Albus. Why do you think he was so eccentric? He never recovered after Grindelwald broke them up and went against him. His magic bound itself to Gellert, just like yours bound itself to _him_ , and a vampire’s soul binds itself to their chosen mate. The sings were there, always. You did not eat after he left, you did not sleep, you did not talk, you did not smile… it got better, and you would have been like Dumbledore in the end – old and alone, but happy enough; however, then you were changed and your soul chose him as well, multiplying the pain by the amount vampires feel if their mate rejects them. Also, you lost basically everything that day. It made coping even harder.” She has snuggled into you while explaining this, carefully pulling the compromised cup from your tense fingers and raising her head to smile at you. You have never been tall, courtesy of the Dursleys’ parenting, but compared to her you are a giant.

You just close your arms around her fragile form and have to admit that you would actually like not having to be so careful around her. That you would like not smelling her sweet blood and thinking about draining her.

“I… did not know that. About Albus, I mean,” you whisper, your mind working its way through your memories of everything you have read on vampires and their mates.

The choice of mate is something between a conscious decision and fate, you remember. A vampire’s soul will always attach itself to someone they know; someone who shows them affection. Someone they could love. At the same time they never choose people they could not spend forever with. Soulmates are a reality for them.

“He never told anyone,” Luna murmurs. “But it was all there. If you know about it…”

“How did you know?”

She gives you a long glance, before shrugging. “My mother was an exceptionally powerful witch,” she whispers. “My father often told me about what they used to have, before she died. I always wanted that… _perfection_ , even if only for such a short time as they were granted it. It was enough for a lifetime, he used to say. He would miss her forever, but he could never love another like he loved her, and no one could ever love him like she did. I… I was a little jealous, I have to admit. They had what everybody dreams about.”

“If I change you…” you say slowly, carefully “you could have it too.” You are not sure whether you are trying to find a reason to make her change her decision about never taking a mate, or to make you change your own decision about not changing her.

“I could,” she agrees cheerfully. “But I have you. I do not need anyone else.”

You sigh. If you change her… well. You will have forever to make her reconsider. “We will have to leave,” you murmur, already thinking about where you could go. “We cannot stay here, not with you having a Newborn’s thirst, instincts and self-control. Also, you will lose all your magic…”

“I will still be able to brew potions,” she immediately answers, easily. “And you are powerful enough for both of us. Also, we could keep this house and return here after some years. It is about time we go somewhere else anyway, we need to absorb a new culture. You definitely know too much about Japan already.”

You give her a shadow of a smile. “And where would you go?”

“I do not know, maybe Russia? There is lots and lots of non-inhabited space, and you might have a property there… some Blacks must have attended Durmstrang.”

Shaking your head, you actually smile this time. “I have,” you admit. “However, it is Moscow, since they have got a huge magical community there, hidden between the muggles. Russia works like Britain as far as this is concerned, not like Japan.” Only very few Japanese wizards and witches live in muggle cities and towns, most of them preferring their own villages, places like Mahou.

“Well, we could get a small cottage somewhere out in the sticks. You can always apparate to Moscow if we need anything, and I will be safe from draining anyone.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You have been planning this.”

“Of course I have,” she admits without hesitating. “Do you really think I would walk into a discussion like this one without preparing?”

Another smile. “No, I do not. Alright. Knowing you, you have already packed your bags. When are we leaving?”

“As soon as you are ready to,” she promptly answers. “But do not forget to drink your cocoa."


	3. Familiar Faces

## Mad World

### Familiar Faces

Russia is almost as nice as Japan. You have moved to the Black house by now, no longer needing to stay in the hut in the snow – although that was quite an experience. Snowstorms are not fun, not even for wizards. Apparating, with all that chaos out there – not a good idea.

You learned that the hard way.

Luna will forever be twenty-seven now, nine years older than you, and even more beautiful than she used to be. She also kept her petite physique, and long dirty blond locks that almost reach the floor. The red eyes are a little disconcerting, but you still prefer them to pitch-black. She reminds you painfully of what you know about Alice, but you force yourself not to let that tear you down.

She is here to make you happy.

Still, you have to meet her halfway.

She does not seem to have a particular gift; however, her way with potions is even more impressing than it used to be before. She has taken to improving already existing recipies for a living, and inventing new ones, and neither her dad not Snape could have been any prouder than they would be could they see her now.

You, on the other hand, shake your head whenever she vanishes into her laboratory again.

Potions no longer make you tremble with fear, necessity and having Voldemort on your tail had been good teachers. However, you still do not like brewing, and keep away from any cauldrons as well as you manage.

You have taken up studying Arithmancy in combination with protection shields instead, and every time you find counter-curses to shield breaking spells you are reminded of Bill, and how much he would have loved working with you. You suppress those thoughts, too; at least as long as you manage to.

Life is not perfect or beautiful or happy, really, but it is okay.

At least until you run into another vampire.

His hair is honey blond and his eyes have the colour of liquid gold.

It is not the first time you have met another one of your kind in Moscow; however, there is something entirely new about this encounter: You run into him in front of a muggle bookshop. All others you have come upon in magical stores and places, most of them keeping away from non-magical people. It really makes life a lot easier.

But what about those who could not wield magic even before they were changed?, your mind supplies. Those who were never told about the world beneath the muggles’? They would not know about magic.

Your occlumency is as impeccable as always, and you see his eyes squint when whatever his gift is brushes against your shield but does not work. You doubt that he has recognized your resistance as something conscious; since your transformation you can wield your magic so infinitesimally accurately that anyone detecting what you do not want to be detected is close to impossible.

Clearly suspicious but trying to be civil he extends a hand. “Jasper Hale,” he says. You do not miss the way he gives your red eyes an insecure glance and cock an eyebrow.

“Harry Potter,” you answer coolly, and watch him freeze.

And, oh, you hate people who use legilimency without asking; but when you see him like this, your hand touching his, your magic just reacts, thinking he may be a threat – your reflexes and paranoia have not dimmed one little bit – and you see the beautiful, _perfect_ face in his mind, and the memory of how he told them about you, and _oh_ -

“Jazz,” you whisper, shocked beyond belief.

He never told you the vampire’s full name when he talked about the blonde, just what the family used to call him, and you cannot believe that you are really that stupid and naïve. Also, you feel your occlumency failing, overpowered by your pain and anger and panic, just for a moment – but long enough to make the empath cringe.

You need to get away.

Now.

While he is still processing who you are; and everything he must have felt from you in that short moment, you forcefully tear your hand from his and shoot away with everything you have, just around the corner – and when he does not react quickly enough to immediately follow you, you disapparate as soon as you are out of sight.

Luna comes darting out of her laboratory when she hears you arrive with a loud _crack_ , only to crash into the ancient table because you did not watch where you were apparating.

You cannot bring yourself to care, though; you have already broken down, sobbing.

Your friend immediately wraps her arms around you and tries to comfort you as well as she knows to, holding you so close that it hurts and beginning to hum. Soon the melody of _Mad World_ from Donnie Darko fills your head, and you force yourself to calm down, to sing along.

“And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad; but the dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had…”

Oh, you wish you could still dream!

You go through the song a dozen times before you have calmed down enough to tell her what has happened. You do not know whether you should be relieved or troubled by the fact that Luna has pulled you from panic attacks a few times already; that she knows what to do. “I met one of them, and he knows who I am,” you gasp. “What if he tells him?”

She tightens her grip even more, and it is definitely painful now, but it works to keep the newly arising panic attack at bay.

“Shhh,” she murmurs, her arms like stone around you; keeping you grounded. “Show me.”

You take a deep breath.

Of course you would not need to; but it still helps you to calm down and gather yourself. Closing your eyes you gently send your magic out, finding her mind and stepping through the door she provides. Once mastered, occlumency is a skill you do not need active magical powers to use, and her mental shield is one that made her live through a war. The moment you have entered, your consciences fuse. Opening a link to the complete memory you let your magic travel along the magical neuron path, taking the memory along and projecting it into her mind.

Moments like these – feeling _how_ your magic does these things – usually intrigue you, but not today.

The link snaps the moment you remember disapparating, and Luna’s arms around your torso tighten even more.

“Shh,” she hushes again. “Shh. It will be alright.”

“How?” you ask, desperate. “How can it be okay? He will tell him!”

“So what? You are a wizard, Harry. You can keep them from ever coming too close. You can vanish within the blink of an eye.”

“But…” You gasp for air, close your eyes. “But what if… I do not want to run?” It is hard for you to admit this, to yourself. “After everything… I should hate him. But I cannot. My heart, my soul, my magic… I ache for him, and having the chance to see him… I am not sure if I will ever be able to forgive myself if I let it slip. I… he has a wife, I know, but… I want to hear why he betrayed me like that. I want to know what it is that I did. Do you understand that?”

“Of course I do,” she answers, and you can hear in her voice that she does. “What are we waiting for, then?”

You shake your head, uncomprehending.

“Well, go find him and apparate us there!”

“Why… I… I could have done so years ago,” you slowly acknowledge. “Why did you never tell me to?”

She smiles a soft smile. “Because you needed to admit – to yourself – that you want to see him. You would not have gone, years ago,” she explains. “Now hush, go on, find him. I will in the meantime take care of my potion, it can wait but I should definitely put out the fire.”

“You… are coming with me?”

“Well of course I am!” And with that she is gone.

Caught somewhere between agony, panic, confusion, determination and fierce love for the woman you consider your sister you direct your magic to _find him, now!_ and begin opening the apparation tunnel as soon as you have; the coordinates your magic has given you already put in as your destination. The moment Luna has returned and reached for your arm you let the pull tear you away; across space and time, only to end up in a dark alleyway at the other end of the city.

A derelict, who has seen you arrive, shrieks and tries to run.

Without really noticing it you change his memory and make for the main street, stopping in front of a beautiful, ageless mansion.

Luna gives it an appreciative glance. “They do have a good taste concerning properties,” she acknowledges, voice so low that you barely hear it. “Of course it is not as pretty as Black Manor…” Sarcasm drips from her beautiful lips, as smooth and sweet as honey.

One of your eyebrows twitches.

Cleaning that place took a lot of time; but the manor is beautiful now.

On a sudden impulse you let your magic shoot towards the house and into all the rooms; finding eight vampire individuals in what is probably a living room. Without you even having to order it the buzzing energy captures everything that is said in that room and carries it to you and Luna. As if you were standing next to them you here every single word.

“- sure?”

“Of course I am!” That is Jasper, you recognize his voice easily.

“But… how could he have become a vampire?” You flinch when you hear the beautiful, perfect voice you have never managed to forget. He is sounding rather helpless; and Luna wraps her arms around your torso once more.

“Yes, how?” a female asks, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I suspect he was bitten, but I cannot be sure of course!”

“Rose!” a male chides, love clearly audible in his words. He must be Emmet, then.

“I… I just…” _He_ sounds desperate, and it breaks your heart – which is quite an achievement, really, for there is not much left that is not already ground to dust. “I thought he would be safe! I did not find him when I returned, but I thought that he would be happy!”

“I know,” another mumbles. “So did I. But I hurt Bella more than Jasper could ever have.” Bella? You have not heard of her.

“He may be many things, but he is not happy.” Jasper again. He sounds tense and his voice it strained. Right, you realize, he must be feeling the emotions of everyone present. It cannot be nice. Being an empath sucks – Neville proved that more than once. “I have no idea how he could block me; and I felt him for just a moment… but what I felt…” He seems to shudder. “He is broken, Carlisle. I do not know how, or why… but with the way he reacted when he realized who I was, I guess it was you.”

You would never have expected what you hear next:

A dry, hollow sob, and hushing.

Luna is staring at you. “We should go talk to them,” she murmurs. “Eavesdropping is not proper British behaviour.”

“We are in Russia,” you manage to retort, but cut the connection anyway.

Only when her grip tightens you realize that you are shaking.

“Shh,” she whispers. “I am with you, and I always will be. You will be okay. I will fix you again and again and again if I have to, alright?”

You hesitate, but finally nod, gulping. “Alright,” you whisper and your voice sounds as if you could actually still cry. “Alright.” With that you reinforce your occlumency-shields and step towards the front door, determined. Luna follows you like a beautiful, angelic shadow.

When you come closer your ears begin to pick up the low murmur of their conversation; and the way it stops abruptly when they smell your presence.

Jasper is the one to open the door, before you have even touched the bell, and his eyes are pitch-black. “Harry,” he murmurs, sounding surprised. Did Alice not see them come? “And you are?”

“Luna Lovegood.”

“I am Jasper Whitlock, pleased to meet you.” He even bows and his cool lips touch the back of her hand.

She giggles a little. “Oh, a gentleman. You do not meet many of those outside Britain.”

Your face is a stony mask, but you actually feel a short flash of amusement at the stinger. “Hiroshi certainly is one, and he is Japanese.”

“Yes, of course,” she puts his argument off. “Nothing compared to the Malfoys, though. Or your families.”

You give her a tight, forced smile. “James must have been one of a kind,” you agree, before turning to look at Jasper once more. “Can we… come in?”

“Oh. Sure.” He steps to the side to let you enter, and closes the door behind you.

Luna does not wait for him to lead the way but pulls you ahead, towards where she can smell the the other vampires. You follow rather reluctantly – having a vampire you do not know in your back goes against your highly alerted instincts. You do not get the chance to complain, though; for Luna has shoved you into the living room within seconds.

And then you see him; and your world stops spinning.

He is kneeling on the floor, looking shaken, and when he raises his head to stare at you, you see a kind of pain that you know only too well in his eyes. Then he takes in your crimson irises and the pain changes to disapproval.

You feel your heart bleed; tearing itself apart once again.

Luna’s arms wrap themselves around you yet again, squeezing so tight that you almost cry out. You do not have time to do so, though, you are fighting to keep your walls up; to keep Jasper and Edward from reading your mind and emotions; to keep yourself from falling apart completely; because seeing that kind of disapproval, of disappointment, in your mate’s eyes – that is just too much, and-

-and then you hear the growl.

Luna’s chest is vibrating, and when you make yourself open your eyes, look at her, you see her lip curled, her teeth shining dangerously, and untamed _fury_ in her beautiful red eyes.

You freeze.

Never, not once, have you heard Luna growl, and never have you seen her like this – not even during the battle against Voldemort and his deatheaters, not even when she had to watch Bellatrix slice Neville apart (until Harry had come and sliced _her_ apart). Your beautiful, loving Luna.

Then you hear Jasper, desperately gasping for air while everyone else is staring at who you consider your sister.

It seems that the surprise, and the gruesome memories were too much.

You struggle to pull your walls back up, to protect your mind and your heart, when you hear a sound of pure surprise coming from Edward’s mouth.

“ _Magic?_ ”

Oh crap.

Luna immediately realizes what has happened and tightens her grip even more, beginning to hum. You will not sing, not in front of them, but fortunately the humming is enough for you to restor your walls, if nothing more.

When you open your eyes again, everyone is staring.

“Magic,” the beautiful brunette standing next to Edward echoes, disbelief clear in her voice.

“Yes,” Luna answers and her usually dreamy and peaceful voice is dripping with venom. “Magic. Which you would know, had Carlisle stayed long enough for Harry to tell him.”

“You have got to be kidding us,” a huge male objects – Emmet.

You feel the anger and bitterness, always buried by the much stronger pain, suddenly burn high. A deep and dangerous growl escapes your lips, and – absent-mindedly – you see them flinch when their bodies recognize the threat their heads are refusing to see.

“Kidding you,” you echo, your voice revealing the emotions Jasper is unable to feel. “Kidding you.”

You feel the energy beneath your skin buzz, and your cold blood beginning to _boil_. There is too much – too much pain, too much anger, too much bitterness, too much magic – to contain. It begins to roll off you in waves and you notice Luna loosening her grip and distancing herself, worry shining in her beautiful eyes.

“ _Kidding you??_ ” you roar and then you are _burning_.

He and his vampires flinch away when they see the violently purple flames dancing over your arms.

“You have no idea what I have gone through,” you whisper, your voice low and dangerous and dripping with the venom that is pooling in your mouth. Your fists are clenched as you fight to keep the flames from escaping. “You have no idea what it was like, to grow up basically alone; to be told that I was a wizard at age eleven, to suddenly have people who cared about me – only to see every single one, everyone but Luna, die because of _magic_. Don’t you dare tell me it is not real! Don’t you dare tainting their sacrifices – sacrifices that have kept the man who tried to kill me when I was one merlindamn year old from killing you as well, like he killed my parents! My parents, who were exceptionally good wizards, who could have deposed of any vampire within the blink of an eye. They, and so many others, died so that you are safe. _Don’t you dare doubting them!_ ”

“Harry,” Luna is murmuring and only then do you realize that Luna has returned to hugging you, the flames dancing over her marble skin as well without harming her. “Harry. Shh. They did not mean to insult your parents, or Albus, or Snape, or anyone else. They did not know.”

You have clenched your eyes shut, but now you open them again, knowing that they will be pitch-black. Drilling them into Carlisle’s you state clearly: “They would, if he had not run without saying goodbye.”

And with that you turn around and march out of the house, no matter how hard Luna is trying to stop you.

Your blood is still boiling angrily; but the pain has returned and is working you up as well. Apparating would not be a good idea. Not at all.

You break down the moment your feet are touching the pavement of the main road, and no longer their property. Fortunately it is night, and there are no muggles roaming the streets, bearing witness of the massacre you are. Luna pushes you to sit and then places herself in your lap, hugging you tightly.

“Oh Harry,” she sobs. “I… I always wished to have what my parents had, but now? Seeing what happens if it goes wrong… Please, Harry. Let us leave and never come back. Let us stay away from other people, and never get involved, never allow ourselves to care. We can conjure up a chessboard and play until this planet dies, taking us down with it. I never want to see you like this again, Harry. I am so sorry that I made you come here. Oh, Harry, please, can you ever forgive me?”

The anger has been replaced by the bitterness, and the agony is stronger than ever. Still you wrap your arms around her, holding her close.

“There is nothing to forgive,” you murmur, your voice raw. “Come. We can go to the manor and the house in Japan, pick up everything we need, and then we can leave. Forever.”

She nods against your chest, still shaken by sobs, and together you manage to stand up.

“Please…” a soft voice interrupts you. “Do not leave.”

Your instincts force you to whirl around with Luna and your eyes fall onto a petite vampire with short black hair who is wringing her hands nervously. She must be Alice.

“I…” she hesitates. Then: “Do you… your magic… does it allow you to read someone’s mind, like Edward?”

You give her a curt nod.

“More like Aro,” Luna interrupts and you remember Remus teaching you about the Volturi in your third year. Thinking about Remus hurts.

Alice offers you her hand. “Please,” she murmurs.

Slowly you move forward. You really just want to leave and never come back, but the desperation in her voice makes you take her fine fingers. Carefully you direct your magic, making sure that it does nothing but build the link. The energy is still boiling, and you could easily lose control; hurting the girl severely.

Your mind reaches hers and you step inside when she offers no resistance at all, only to nearly lose the connection when you see the first memory. It shows Jasper, Alice and… Luna, caught in a very loving embrace. Remembering that Carlisle told you how Alice was a seer you begin to realize what this means. Luna… could be happy with them. She certainly seems to be, in the vision. And you could never take that away from her. You feel something break inside you when you realize that you will lose her as well. Wanting to pull back and set to convince Luna of staying you are interrupted by the memory of another vision – one that shows the three of them playing video games, Jasper losing pathetically and… in the same room, on a white leather sofa… you and Carlisle, his arm around your shoulders; both of you reading. You look peaceful, and happy.

The link breaks this time and you stare at her, eyes wide with shock.

“Please,” she murmurs for the third time. “I know it is selfish, but I do not want her to leave. I want her to be with us. And you… both of you… have suffered so much already, and you will never be happy without each other. If you leave now…” She does not need to finish the sentence.

You clench your teeth. “How can I be happy with him if he has a wife, a mate?” And you feel the memory come to the surface, how he told you about Esme and that he had to return to her, leaving you behind with that aching hole in your chest.

“She is not his mate,” Alice states, clearly. “They married because both of them were alone, and they could be happy with each other. They had thought they were mates, because they never even _saw_ anyone else… until he met you, and realized how much stronger his feelings for you were, how you meant everything to him. He returned to explain everything to Esme and come back to you, but when he did you were gone… your relatives even denying your existence.”

“But I told him,” you object weakly. “I said I would leave come September. And I stayed as long as I possibly could hoping that he would come back. He knew that I had to go to boarding school, and that I would not return before June!” You want her to be right, so much, but you cannot allow yourself to hope.

Alice gives you a sad smile. “You forget that he is an idiot,” she mutters.

“That I am,” someone says behind you and you whirl around once more, only to stare into his black eyes. “I… figured that I could come to whatever boarding school you went to, I am a vampire after all. That I could write you a letter, text you… But your relatives told me nothing, and when Edward came, trying to hear their thoughts… I have no idea how he was kept from hearing about you being a wizard. He discovered nothing, though; and I found your phone left behind in your room.”

You stare at him disbelievingly. “You… you just left! Without even really saying goodbye!”

He buries his beautiful face in his impeccable hands. “Oh Harry… I had been with Esme for a century, thinking that this was it… and then I met you, and you turned everything I thought I knew about love upside down. I hate to admit this, but I was like a schoolgirl running after her first crush. I was madly in love with you, and giddy, and so very confused – all the while feeling guilty because I was basically cheating on Esme. I needed to break up with her, and that was something I had to do in person. Also, I wanted to tell her that we were not mates, so that she would stop just seeing me and begin to see other people as well, because how else was she supposed to find herself a real mate? And, oh, I was so happy that I had found you – I wanted to tell _everyone_.” Someone snorts, but you do not allow yourself to be distracted. This is way too important. “So, I flew home. And when I came back…”

He raises his head again and looks at you, and you think were your heart still beating it would stop, for the pain you saw before is still there, in his black eyes – however, as is the unconditional love you have dreamt about every night when you could still sleep.

“I am sorry,” he says. “I am sorry for leaving without explaining, and I am sorry for what happened a few minutes ago. I cannot blame you for drinking human blood, I never even blamed Aro, Marcus and Caius when I was still with them, and why would you be a vegetarian anyway? Who should have told you? Also, I left you behind and you had to go through the agony of your transformation alone, without me at your side, like I had planned… it was unfair of me to judge you. Please forgive me.”

You are still staring at him.

“Of course I knew about vegetarian vampires,” you finally say. “When I met you I was incredibly confused by your eye colour. That you were a vampire I could tell immediately, I had been taught the signs three years prior… but your eyes did not fit. So, I wrote to my friend Hermione” you flinch, as does Luna “who was basically a walking encyclopaedia and who had access to magical books. She looked it up for me. I was pretty impressed – keeping away from human blood could not be easy.”

“If you knew that I was a vampire, why did you not tell me you were a wizard?”

You shoot him a disbelieving glance.

“There are only very few vampires who were non-magical before their transformation,” Luna explains. “We lose our magic when we are changed, but we remember it, and we mostly stay with magical communities. They know who we are, they can stop us should we lose control, and… they mean easy access to blood-substitute. Harry thought that you knew about wizards, and that you knew what, and who, he was. _Everyone_ in our world knows. He also figured that you would know how to send letters via owl, that the boarding school he was talking about was Hogwarts, and that electronic devices do not work there. He never brought it up because he thought you _knew_.”

Carlisle’s eyes are wide.

However, it is not him who breaks the silence, but Jasper. “Blood-substitute?”

“I only touched a human once,” you whisper, “and that was after the battle… after I was changed, and had stood unmoving for three months. England was a mess, there was no chance to get hold of the substitute. He was a convicted murderer and rapist. I accidentally saw his thoughts when I killed him… I am not sorry.”

“I did the same,” Edward interposes and only then do you really realized that everyone is standing on the street, listening. “I… for some time I refused to feed off animals and hunted humans instead. Since I could read their thoughts it was easy for me to find those who I deemed worthy of dying by my hands…” He shudders.

You actually feel a lot better after that. He killed many humans, and Carlisle still loves him like a son.

Maybe he will be able to accept you as well, even if your eyes are crimson instead of green or golden.

“Can we… is there a chance for us to get this blood-substitute as well?” Jasper again. When he sees your questioning gaze he gives you a not at all convincing smile. “I… used to live on humans for quite a long time before I met this coven and chose to stay with them. Changing your diet is harder the longer you… you know.”

You nod. Just imagining feeding off animals only, the thirst never really going away, never again enjoying the sweet pleasure of AB+ substitute grazing your taste buds… it would be hard. Really hard. “It… would not be a problem, I can get them for you. However, it will make your eyes red.”

“That is okay,” Alice turns to beam at him, a blindingly bright smile on her sweet lips. “I would rather see you smiling with crimson eyes, than golden-eyed and in pain.”

The way he looks at her – you have to look away. The love between them is almost palpable, and even non-empaths can easily sense it.

“Harry.” Your head has whipped around before you have even realized that Carlisle was the one who has spoken. “Can we… talk?”

You exchange a short glance with Luna, and she smiles. “Go, I will be fine. And if you are not… I will know who to hunt down.” She gives your mate one really frightening scowl and then turns away, marching off towards where Esme is standing. “Come,” you hear her say. “Let us get back into the house, the show is over. Besides, I do not want to explain to a bunch of nosy muggles why we are running around in t-shirts when it is freezing.”

Absent-mindedly you notice Edward asking after the term ‘muggles’, too occupied with making yourself grab Carlisle’s hand and apparating the two of you off to Black Manor. “I inherited this from my godfather,” you explain, trying to divert his attention from the fact that you have let go of him the moment you have landed. Touching him physically hurts. You do have a little hope now, but there is still a hole in your chest, and your magic has not calmed down completely.

Carlisle just stares for you for a few very long moments. Then his dark eyes flash and before even your war instincts can kick in he is flying towards you, crushing into you and wrapping his arms around your neck. “Harry,” he murmurs, breathing your scent in, and this is all that keeps your magic from pushing him away, barely. His grip tightens. “God, I have missed you so much, and I am so sorry! I never wanted to hurt you, really! I love you!” And with that his lips are on yours.

For a few seconds you stay frozen.

You may not have known each other long, in those short summer holidays so many years ago, when you started dating, yet you to know that he is anything but impulsive and uncontrolled. This is so very out of character for him…

However, before you get to mentally unpick the matter your body reacts without your mind ever consenting and you are kissing him back like there is no tomorrow.

“Please, Harry, forgive me!” he pants, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder and you hold him as close as possible.

“Don’t ever leave again!” you sob, shaking. “Never let me alone ever again!”

“I will not,” he immediately answers. “Never, I promise. I love you. My world was empty without you, and now that I have you back… I am never letting you go again. Never!”

Slowly, you feel the hole in your chest beginning to close. “I love you too,” you whisper. “I will always love you. I would have spent eternity loving you either way.”

“I know,” he murmurs, and then kisses you again. His lips are no longer hard and cold against yours, like they used to be when you were still human, but warm and soft and _perfect_. You lose yourself in that kiss, feel yourself offering him everything you are and ever could be. His fingers are digging into your shoulders, and when they glide down your back they take parts of your shirt with them. You do not really care about that, but decide to follow suit. Fortunately your magic works faster than even hands moving with vampire speed and soon both of you are naked, pressing close and relishing how perfectly your body fits against his.

 

\---

 

Many hours later, when both of you have assuaged the need to know that the other is really there, you apparate the two of you (fully clothed again, of course) to a moonlight beach somewhere in Spain where you lie in the sand, your head on his chest and one of his hands running through your unruly black locks. You are staring up at the stars, your eyes finding Orion. It makes you think about Sirius, and Ron and Hermione, and Albus, and everyone else, and how they would have loved seeing you like this… but it does not hurt so badly any longer, now that you have someone who will always be there for you.

Now that you have found a new family.

You know the others will be waiting, wherever they went from that station in Hogsmeade, and when the earth dies, you will meet them there.

For now you are happy where you are.

Carlisle asks after the battle then, and what happened to your friends, your family… - you did not mention much that summer when you were dating, assuming that he knew already. You tell him everything now, though, sharing your most cruel memories with him because he wants you to, and you actually feel better afterwards. There is baggage that is too heavy to be carried even by a vampire, but you no longer have to carry it alone.

He smiles at you, and holds you when you sob, and whispers sweet promises into your ear.

“I love you, Harry,” he says, again and again, and you cannot hear it often enough.

You apparate back home when the sun rises and the first muggles make their way to the beach.

Alice is already waiting for you, a huge smile on her beautiful features.

“Harry,” she beams. “Or should I call you mum?”

You give her an evil grin, letting flames dance on your palm. “Don’t you dare to!” you warn her, but she just gives you a cheeky grin and extends her hand. Understanding what she wants you take it and open a connection with your legilimency, watching the memory she shows you.

 

_“Mum?” Rose calls – Rose, your beautiful daughter. You give her an exasperated look._

_“How many times have I told you-”_

_“-not to call me mum?” Jasper and Emmet finish together, grinning cheekily._

_You growl at them – playfully of course. “Do not make me take away your Xbox again.”_

_They rear backwards in horror, eyes wide._

_Carlisle chooses exactly that moment to step into the room, clearly just having returned from working at the hospital. “Are you trying to make them despair?” he asks, chuckling. Although he is still carrying his bag his steps first lead him to where you are preparing a delicious chili con carne y blood-substitute. You are in Mexico, after all, and intending to do this properly. He gently grasps your chin with his free hand and moves to kiss you, your magic taking care of stirring the chili. When you break apart you let your eyes travel down his body, smirking._

_“Maybe I should try making you despair.” You do love the fact that he always wears shirts. He looks sexy as hell._

_“You are doing so already,” he purrs, carelessly letting his bag drop to the floor and wrapping his arms around you. You move to turn around in his arms, and kiss him again – extensively._

_“Too. Much. Information!” Alice calls from where she is sitting next to Jasper, watching as Luna crushes his and Emmet’s characters._

_“Let them,” the blonde says dreamily. “I expect they are doing nothing more…_ interesting _than what we do. There is only two of them, after all.”_

_Alice bangs her head against her girlfriend’s shoulder. “There are children in the room!”_

_“Hey,” Nessie protests from where she is sitting on Jacob’s lap. “I am not a child anymore!”_

_“I was not talking about you,” the black-haired vampire mutters._

_Esme snickers._

_You do not really care about any of that, though, way too occupied with working out how to save the chili if you apparate your husband and yourself into your room_ right this instant.


End file.
